Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Croatia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Lakeside to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Steve Hackett,
The Blackbyrds,
Blossom Toes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Parry Music,
The Moleskins,
Organ,
T.S.O.L.,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wings,
Big Daddy Kane,
Smog,
Zero Boys,
Skarface,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rapeman,
Harmonia,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dennis Brown,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sparks,
ABC,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tubeway Army,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Sound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sandy B,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kaleidoscope,
Sun City Girls,
the Germs,
The Wake,
Erykah Badu,
Bang On A Can,
Symarip,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ohio Players,
Vladislav Delay,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scratch Acid,
The Gun Club,
The Invisible,
Pylon,
Faraquet,
The Happenings,
Soul Sonic Force,
Avey Tare,
Grey Daturas,
Au Pairs,
Goldenarms,
Nick Fraelich,
Slave,
Livin' Joy,
Sun Ra,
Suicide,
Janne Schatter,
Nils Olav,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Pretty Things,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.